"Unhand me this instant you pot-bellied hobgoblin!" howled Edwin as the red-headed blacksmith patted down his buttocks. "Of all the indignities that I have suffered in this foul pit of savages, this is unquestionably the worst!"
"Those darts of wounding were in the cabinet when you came in," snapped the dwarf, groping with unnecessary vigour at his inner thighs, "And now they're not. If I find them I'll be testing the whole batch on you, count on it!"
Edwin tried for the seventh time to explain to these morons that he did not have their darts, but the dwarves of Thunderhammer's smithy were having none of it. He even offered to pay for the wretched things anyway, just to end the pawing, but to no avail.
"Any luck Margoff?" asked Taerom Thunderhammer, his arms folded over his metal barrel of a chest.
"Nothing boss," she replied, stroking her long red beard thoughtfully. "Only one place left to search. Bend over wizard."
"I will not, vile woman!" exploded Edwin.
"Taerom, pass me the No. 4 pliers and a lantern," said Margoff, tying her long red hair back into a ponytail and rolling up her sleeves. "We're going in!"
"HELP ME!" screamed Edwin at the top of his lungs.
The door burst open, and framed in it was an enormous half-orc. He had to stoop to get his grey head into the smithy, and as he strode inside, suits of armour that had been hanging from the ceiling came crashing to the floor like cymbals. He grunted and stared around at the dwarves and wizard, tusks gleaming.
"What in the nine hells is going on?" he demanded gruffly.
"Thorg!" Edwin howled. "You have to help me! These mad dwarves think I stole some paperclips from them or something!"
"Did you just call my hand-crafted, triple reinforced steel darts featuring mithril plated tips and patented easy-grip side panels paperclips?" Margoff bellowed threateningly.
"This was not part of our deal, puny one," warned Thorg, pointing an enormous finger at Edwin. "I kill your witch, you break wards on mad dwarf's tower. We no say nothing about no shoplifting!"
"I didn't do it!" wailed Edwin truthfully. "I don't have the darts I swear!"
"I try to help," agreed the half-orc reluctantly. "But they call Flaming Fist and Thorg run. Leave stupid wizard in shop."
He turned to the ginger dwarf Margoff who was staring at the oversized muscles on his arms with sparkling eyes. He bent down, practically onto all fours so that his face was on a level with hers. She blushed beneath her beard, ogling him enthusiastically.
"Darts cheap. You good blacksmith. Thorg buy big suit of armour. You let puny wizard go."
"Not a chance-" began Taerom, but Margoff cut him off.
"Now let's not be hasty!" she trilled. "Ten thousand gold pieces and I'll measure this one myself. Yummy!"
Thorg looked distinctly disconcerted but it was too late. Paying such an excessive sum for what was, in truth, quite mediocre armour, was not the worst part of this deal. Margoff had a thing for big men and the process of sizing him for armour turned out to be extensive and unnecessarily tactile. The stroking and petting was not limited to those areas of his anatomy directly involved in the fitting, nor did she seem to be noting down any actual lengths or circumferences.
"No," he was forced to say at one point. "You do not need to know the length of that to make armour. Even Thorg know that."
Finally groped, prodded and thoroughly dishevelled (not to mention ten thousand gold pieces poorer) the furious orc and his wizard were turned loose into the streets of Beregost.
"Come back tomorrow to collect lover boy," purred Margoff. "And bring your muscles!"
Thorg shuddered. The pair hurried back to the Jovial Juggler where their thief, Alora, was waiting for them. With much wailing and moaning, Edwin began to recant his ordeal to her, while the halfling brought him a beer and massaged his shoulders.
"Why wizard complaining, was worse for Thorg," muttered the half-orc. "Feel dirty. Need bath."
"You want a bath?" sneered Edwin in mock-astonishment. "Well at least some good has come from this bestial business then."
"I know what will cheer you up Mr Grumpy!" beamed Alora. She reached down her top and rummaged through her ample cleavage. Edwin leaned forward excitedly. "Ta daaa!"
She pulled open her tunic a fraction to reveal a roll of green velvet wedged in the crack. Edwin seized it eagerly, allowing his hand to linger there under the pretext of feeling inside the package.
"Those had better not be what I think they are," growled Thorg suspiciously.
"These? They're nothing. Personal items," squeaked Edwin. "Thank you Alora for these lovely… er… intimate items that Thorg will not wish to see."
"They're not intimate items silly, I wouldn't show you those in front of Thorg!" laughed Alora. "These are those fancy new darts you asked me to steal from Thunderhammers', yes they are!"
A dangerous, rumbling snort like an angry bull, emerged from the half-orc. Edwin, in his Thayan robes, appropriately resembled a red rag. He got up, positioning his chair strategically between himself and Gorion's ward, and started backing away.
"Now Thorg, remain calm, a simple misunderstanding is all…"
"Alora, hand me one of those darts," Thorg growled menacingly. "And Edwin?"
"Yes?" gulped the wizard.
"Bend over."